


The Fair Lady's Game

by slightlyjillian



Series: The Negotiation Of Lineage [6]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captives during the Peacecraft rule, Quatre and Dorothy make choices which will change the possibility of their future together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fair Lady's Game

**Author's Note:**

> I really want to wrap up the sequel to Negotiation of Lineage, but I ended up with this instead. So it goes...

One day she met a prince who approached life with a gentle smile and an open heart. He carried a sword and understood how to use it, when to use it and when to put it away. If she felt uncertain, he listened to her words as she spilled out fears, concerns and all sorts of dark confessions in polluted streams. Instead of rejecting her, his arms, weapons of justice, embraced her with compassion.

One day she met a prince who had returned from battle. The field was not one of his choosing and his heart had long retreated. As she wiped away the blood, his gaze stared beyond her. Each spasm of his eyes, every twitch of his fingers, relived the events of his actions. The rag soaked away the evidence, but Dorothy had nothing to sooth away experience.

.:.

She was a prisoner sitting at a breakfast table.

After the soldier from the south escaped, Dorothy expected terrible consequences. She had been orchestrating her own rescue, a feeble attempt to break free from Relena’s authority and, somehow, release Quatre from the shackles of the dungeon. She had intended to include the same soldier, Tomas Nichol, in that endeavor, having found a renewed courage when considering that man’s resolve equaled her own. Or so she had thought.

She couldn’t blame him for running at his chance.

Disappointment left her cold and no different than how she had spent those several years sleeping alone. The bed Relena gave Dorothy had always been too narrow to pretend otherwise.

Still, Nichol had made no effort to wound their enemy. A northern soldier and the Peacecraft heir to the kingdom had been allowed to survive during Nichol’s escape. Left with a life debt to an enemy, one debt they would never consider honoring. Moreover, rather than punishing the fool who had been swindled by Nichol’s quick acting, Relena had started to take that man, Alex, into her bed.

Dorothy snatched at her orange juice to flush down her outcry of rage. The boy, Milliardo’s son, stayed mute and unmoving and completely unharmed in his breakfast table seat. Relena continued to enact her façade of normalcy as she always did. Nichol’s chair remained empty and his place unset.

Dorothy set down her glass and scowled at the empty chair across from her. Perhaps Nichol had broken something in Relena that day. The self-professed Queen was as much a daily hostage to her home as the royal prisoners. Milliardo seemed to be running the kingdom. Milliardo had Quatre.

Being left behind had changed Dorothy as well, she realized. She pulled a cloth to wipe her mouth and tug down at the sudden smile, a peculiar and daring emotion. If that simpleton, Nichol, could defeat the Peacecrafts in something so small, what more could be achieved by the last of the scheming Catalonias?

“I want to see Quatre,” she said, resting her head in her palms and hiding her face. She must not be seen grinning.

Relena put her hands in her lap. “Why the sudden request?”

Dorothy’s eyes burned with pressure and she did shift her gaze toward Relena then. “You take someone to comfort your bed. Understand me now?”

“Careful,” Relena glanced at her nephew, but Lucre did not understand nor care to hear adult conversation once Nichol left. The boy seemed unable to reconcile the loss of his enemy with the simultaneously lost companionship of his tutor swordsman. Rage or sadness without consolation, Lucre remained paralyzed as much as Dorothy had been when feeling the same… but that was before.

She was not a child.

“Please? Please allow me a private moment?” Dorothy could argue reason with Relena all day, but for this to work she needed to pry into Relena’s most basic instincts--one that had a royal woman so broken as to indulge an opportunist such as Alex.

Relena indulged opportunities as well. She stood, pushing her chair back far enough it hit the wall. “Lucre, you are spending the day with your father. Dorothy will be taken to see her Gundam knight in the dungeon. In the dungeon,” Relena repeated. “To do whatever you want in that place as is fitting for captives, but I will not allow that prisoner to be unshackled.”

“Relena…”

“You can have your privacy, but the door is locked with a guard outside. Come now, no one is fooled as to what you want to accomplished,” Relena smirked, but irritability showed she took little pleasure from this exchange. When Lucre failed to hear her commands, Relena gripped the small boy by the shoulders and forcibly lifted him to stand.

The door opened and Alex appeared to remove their emptied plates, but finding them all ready to leave, he raised his eyebrows at the Queen.

“Change in plans?” he asked, coyly.

.:.

The cell door closed behind her and Quatre lifted his head. “Ah, my heart,” he said pulling back his lips in an effort to greet her more cheerfully. His hands were chained to the wall so that when he was seated they stayed lifted over his head. He moved shakily on his legs and let the wall support him once upright. His head tilted backward showing a long pale neck, but he kept his bright blue eyes on Dorothy. They reflected the narrow ray of sunshine through the elevated sliver of a window, more for the convenience of the guard than the hostage.

“I had been hoping to see you today,” he chuckled.

“And every day,” Dorothy quipped, gently.

“So you’re here. What new ideas did the Peacecrafts want to enforce on me?” His body slumped again, trying to find strength in his legs. She hadn’t seen him in many weeks and didn’t know if she should ask what had happened in the meantime. Milliardo relentlessly took out his frustrations on Quatre, so it could have been any number of things.

“Today is different,” Dorothy replied, going to him and using her hands to direct his lips toward hers. “I asked to see you.”

“Hmm,” Quatre murmured while kissing her. “I am dreaming.”

“Nichol escaped,” she said after a while of indulging herself on becoming reacquainted with his much loved face and his smell and his efforts to appear _fine_. “Some months back, but no one has returned to gloat that they’ve killed him. I think he got away.”“Trowa will be relieved,” Quatre considered. But his reaction was more subdued than Dorothy anticipated.

“What is it?” she asked.

“New information,” said Quatre, resting his forehead against hers. She wished they had let him loose to have the use of his arms. How did they think she was going to… his next words stopped her thought. “Sylvia Noventa is pregnant. And the child is going to be Trowa’s.”

“Ah gods,” Dorothy grumbled. “Not another one.”

“He’s pretty torn up over it,” Quatre sighed. “Zechs goes on about a girl child being exactly what he and Trowa can come to an agreement over.”

“Already marrying off Lucre? Still trying to legitimize their claim to the throne, but Trowa wouldn’t…”

“Trowa’s more defenseless when it comes to matters of the heart.” Quatre shook his head. “He’s not had as much practice as we have.” Dorothy lowered her eyes to watch where her fingers curled into his shirt.

“It’s time, Quatre,” Dorothy confessed, hoping he would agree. “I thought with Nichol gone that Trowa might…”

“Not him, not now,” Quatre disagreed. “But this will spur Heero to move. When I saw him last,” he shuddered, choking off his words. Dorothy felt the pulsing against her cheek as much as she heard the involuntary spasm in his lungs. He took a moment to regain his breath. “Heero didn’t have motivation. He let himself get comfortable, but not now.”

“He’s going to make all sorts of terrible choices. Simply to keep his child’s birthright unchallenged?” Dorothy leaned back and allowed Quatre to slip down to his knees. She met him there. “It’s always the two of us, caught alone in all their messes. What are we going to do this time?

“Let’s get married, Dorothy.”

“Gods, I’ve missed your awful attempts at humor,” she whispered into the spaces where his laughing smile didn’t ruin her effort to kiss him

“I’m serious. I’m asking you,” he retorted. The shackles clanked feebly as he made an effort to stroke her hair. “I was thinking we could have a priest meet us under the willow tree in the garden just outside the dungeon. Some random girl must be willing to sing that awful song you love so much…”

“It’s not a terrible song,” Dorothy protested lightly. “And of course, I will marry you. Exactly that way--wearing this filth, a prostitute for a witness and under that dirty tree”

“I wish this was over,” Quatre said, more softly than before. He stilled under her touch. “You asked what we’re going to do?”

This time the smile on his face was not meant for her. The edges of his lips trembled cruelly and with exactness in his words, Quatre spoke, “Milliardo imprisoned me with accusations of poisoning his wife.”

“You never…”

“Of course not, not then. But if he so insists,” Quatre chuckled dangerously. “I can become poison.”

.:.

Dorothy combed her hair without a mirror but performed the motions of her evening rituals more to keep her hands busy. Quatre had refused to say what he planned, except that he trusted her to do her part.

The weather lately had been overcast, creating as much gloom in Relena’s sitting room as outside the glass windows. Many afternoons, Relena left Dorothy alone with Lucre, who had refused to pick up his sword after Nichol’s departure. The boy grew restless until he would spring up and running toward some piece of furniture would give it a mighty kick. He didn’t stop until he exhausted himself and would fall face down trying to hide his silent tears.

Dorothy waited, bored and her fingers numb from being pricked by needlepoint.

“What a spring. So dismal,” Alex said, having come around from behind Dorothy’s chair. She jerked away in surprise, which made the blond man laugh. He had prominent cheek-bones that made his eyes seem smaller and more sinister even as he presented a glib-hearted exterior. He glanced at Lucre who had exhausted himself into a fitful sleep on the couch.

“I thought you would be with Relena,” Dorothy retorted, uncertain what Alex wanted. He had never had reason to speak with her before.

“Relena, yes.” Alex tilted his head at the thought. “She’s quite easy to satisfy. Which leaves me so much leisure time to pursue more interesting things…”

“I hope you don’t think...” Dorothy stood up, ready for anything. Wanting him to do something so that she could strike back. All she needed was an excuse. However, his attitude seemed strange.

“Relax,” he said, taking her arms and she let him put her back in the chair. She waited to learn what had changed. “Quatre sent me.”

Somehow, she believed it was true. “Go on,” she urged, trying to keep her curiosity under control. Still her mind rapidly wondered, _He had said to be ready. Is this it?_

“You’re just going to believe me?” He seemed surprised. He pulled over a chair as Dorothy pretended she had gone back to her craftwork.

“I said go on…”

“Right, yes,” Alex huffed, clearly amused. He looked at Lucre again. Satisfied he continued, “Quatre says that you should expect movement in about two months. You probably haven’t heard that Trowa is gone. He disappeared after that other soldier we caught him with…”

“That other soldier?” Dorothy raised her eyebrow. “Do you mean Nichol? The one who shamed you and got away under your watch?”

Alex winced, but said good-naturedly, “I suppose I deserve that from the Peacecrafts, but you?”

“You don’t care much about anyone’s opinion except your own, I’d imagine,” Dorothy said, enjoying her fun all the same. “Go on. I suppose you’re going to suggest that Trowa has gone after his child.”

“Quatre said that too,” Alex reported. “He went on to say that Halyna would be making her move.”

“Of course,” Dorothy whispered, seeing things as Quatre must have realized them. Her chest tightened with hope and her vision grew dark around the edges as she forgot to breathe. “Children have such unwavering ideals. Heero wouldn’t like it, but he wouldn’t argue…”

“Why did Quatre bother sending me if you’re just going to figure it out on your own,” Alex said, leaning to the side as if planning to leave.

“He had you tell me so I would know,” Dorothy smirked.

“Know what exactly?”

“That he’s infiltrated the very veins of the kingdom.”

.:.

Quatre’s influence didn’t prevent Alex from continuing to indulge Relena, which Dorothy began to watch with a small measure of sadness. At one time, the women had been better friends. Even if they had perpetually quarreled, they had also been on equal ground. For the past several years, Relena had spoiled that with her pretense at being Queen. And by being Queen, Relena had become lazy, choosing to resolve her losses by ordering Dorothy to be silent or to lock her into a room.

That same laziness created a lonely and isolated girl who chose physical comfort from a man who all too willingly was going to betray her.

 _At least, Relena chose that lover on her own, before we made our move,_ Dorothy reminded herself. Although, she had to shove aside wondering if Quatre’s choice of including Alex had been exact and intentional. In the subsequent deception, Dorothy chose to stop keeping score.

“You have a visitor,” Relena announced one morning.

“Who?” Dorothy did not have to pretend at her astonishment. To that point, she had not been allowed to see Quatre, but he sent her a slow, steady stream of comfort through Alex.

Dorothy followed to the dining room where, sitting in Nichol’s long vacant seat, was Iria Winner. Unlike her relationship with Relena, Dorothy could never claim to have been friends with this woman. Iria stood, only from respect of Relena’s assumed authority as Queen.

“Iria requested a tour of the garden,” Relena explained. “I’ve granted this, along with an armed guard. But please, take as long as you would like.”

Relena left along with a brief glimpse of a northern uniform. Dorothy understood Relena’s loneliness, but Alex seemed to have her quite wrapped around his finger.

“Shall we?” Iria asked. Dorothy had not heard that voice in years, the girlishly pitched tone that sounded forever fourteen and never deepening, never aging. It quite perfectly disguised a clever intelligence underneath. But Dorothy knew better.

Summer had arrived and the branches had become heavy with their fruit. Their stroll kept to the shade of the trees and Dorothy paused to offer Iria a swelling, red apple.

“No?” Dorothy repeated after the initial refusal. She plucked the apple regardless and took a bite for herself. She chewed completely before asking, “Why did you want to see me?”

“The Maganac are not as secretive as the palace when it comes to questioning the current state of the monarchy,” Iria answered. “I wanted to offer my assistance.”

“You?” Dorothy laughed. “I’m rather confident that Quatre has no intention of putting a Winner on the throne.”

Iria pressed her thin lips together. Her blue eyes were large and gentle, to match the voice, but cold words through that small mouth would always be how Dorothy remembered Iria. Starting from all those years ago when Quatre had welcomed Dorothy into his household and Iria had not.

“You are the one to bring up the past, Dorothy. I’m only thinking of the future,” Iria said with remarkable calmness. She reached out to take Dorothy’s hand with both of hers and dropped a small weight into Dorothy’s grasp. “Quatre asked for this. For my cooperation, and I’m agreeing.”

“What?” Dorothy hissed, pulling her hand away and catching a brief glimpse of light reflected from glass before she tucked the contraband into the waist of her skirt. “He did not ask for this.”

“Milliardo occasionally dines with his son and his sister,” Iria said smoothly, ignoring Dorothy’s angry glare. “You are present, but all the same, that man lets down his guard. If you act quickly, so will that. I guarantee the results.”

“No, you must be wrong,” Dorothy muttered.

“What? You cannot believe that my brother loves his new home and wants it in the best possible hands?”

“Don’t twist things,” retorted Dorothy, wishing to could smash the tiny bottle at Iria’s feet. But they were being watched and being found with anything like poison would be the end of Dorothy regardless of the perceived leverage she provided over a Gundam knight.

“Ah, now _you_ were always the one seeking to twist the truth to your own comfort,” Iria clucked her tongue. “It’s taken me a long time to accept Quatre’s peculiar way of doing things. But I have. Have you?”

After that Iria did not stay long. She left with one guard, while Dorothy paced the garden under the unwavering watch of the other. This man did not identify as an ally, although others had given her Quatre’s sign in the past. She couldn’t take any chances by asking Quatre for confirmation.

Desperately, her teeth tore into the last of the apple as she tried to decide what to do with her opportunity.

.:.

Milliardo came to dinner less often than he had in the past, but news of Lucre’s ongoing depression had loosened the one paternal instinct the older Peacecraft retained. Dorothy knew this was her opening. Of course, if she didn’t act—another time might present itself, but why would Iria have arrived when she did if Quatre didn’t mean for Dorothy to move at her next chance?

She noticed a heightened awareness as she contemplated her actions. She wore a pale green dress with a tear in the cuff lacing. It took her two tries to put her hand through without catching her thumb in the wrong place. After which, the frays tickled her wrist to distraction.

Relena had arrived next, but still they waited for Lucre and the arrival of his father before being served. In the stillness, Dorothy could hear Relena’s every breath mismatched with an awareness of her own intakes of air.

The edge of Dorothy’s imperfectly cleaned plate had a stain from a previous meal. She broke it free with her nail, but could not forget the place where it had been.

She could claim that the glasses were dirty and pour the liquid into a new glass. If she chose the wrong drink from the servant perhaps she could switch glasses with Milliardo during the correction, or would the effort be too much? If Lucre was sufficiently distracting he could keep the attention of his aunt and his father long enough for Dorothy to drug the drink.

Relena cleared her throat causing Dorothy to glance her direction. Then she watched in surprise as Relena took a small, identical vial and poured the contents into her own water glass. As the other woman intended to take a long drink, Dorothy reached out to stop her arm.

“What? What are you taking?” Dorothy asked.

“Calm yourself,” Relena’s eyes grew dark.

All Dorothy could think of was the poison from Iria. “You don’t intend to harm yourself?” Dorothy said softly and in a rush, uncertain when Milliardo and Lucre would arrive.

“Harm… _myself_?” Relena repeated, completely puzzled. She stopped resisting the tug of Dorothy’s hand and set down the glass. “You thought I meant to harm myself? No, Dorothy… I… I had no idea something like that would distress you.”

“What is it?” Dorothy asked, choking on the shrill sound from her own lips. The ongoing tension squeezed her throat.

Relena replied somberly, “A little poison.”

“What?” Dorothy gave up her grip, fingers wide in shock.

“Poison of a certain sort. So little it would never hurt me,” Relena said, with sad bemusement. “How can you seem so distressed? Is it so different from what you want? From what you did to Lucrezia?”

“Yes!” Dorothy replied urgently to the oldest accusation. “Because we didn’t poison her!”

Relena scoffed, softly. “I almost believe you this time. The first time.” She picked up the glass and drank it all: water and self-professed poison.

“What are you doing?” Dorothy hissed. “Why?”

“I wonder why you even noticed,” Relena said as if to herself. “But wouldn’t you agree that this world is a terrible place to create a child? Who would do something as cruel as that…”

The room became cold. The lace at her wrist became stiff and cut like a dull dagger. Dorothy understood. All those visits with her favorite, lowly guard and eventually the Queen conceived.

And the Queen waited to reveal the information to her former best friend only after the item of destruction had slipped down her throat.

“Poison is for a coward,” Dorothy whispered, realizing why neither herself nor Quatre would ever consider the use of it.

Then Milliardo and his son arrived before another word could be exchanged.

.:.

Relena never showed herself to be pregnant, if indeed she ever was, and no further doses of poison presented at their dining table.

Dorothy safely drained Iria’s contribution at her first opportunity. She let the thin liquid spill into the pale green dress. It stained the material a darker shade along the lace cuffing and if it reminded Dorothy of her own resolve, all the better.

Eventually during a stroll in the garden, she crushed the tiny glass bottle under her shoe and left it to be a mystery if it ever were discovered.

Alex continued to visit the Queen, but Dorothy and Alex both noticed a growing indifference as Relena turned down as many of the advances she instigated as she accepted.

“My path to you is getting a little prickly,” Alex confirmed. “Relena still shows me favor, she does enjoy what I provide. But if she continues to send me away this often…”

“I know,” Dorothy hushed him. “Did Quatre say how long?” A few months had taken them into autumn again and winter before long.

“Well, he said that regardless of his move...” Alex hesitated and stepped back. Dorothy edged forward. They were alone in the garden and out of sight from the windows, but she didn’t want them to be overheard.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“He wants you out, gone… somewhere safe,” Alex admitted. “We’re going to move you first.”

Dorothy swore. “I fought with him last time, he knows! I’m not a Gundam knight, but I can stab a man with a sword just as well as… you.” She pushed her finger into Alex’s chest. He grimaced playfully. “Tell him that I’m not going anywhere.”

“My lady,” Alex said, with a strange politeness never present before. “I know in my gut that your Gundam knight has the means to win this. I don’t choose the losing side, ever. But he is vulnerable to your well-being.”

“Vulnerable,” scoffed Dorothy. “Have you seen him fight? No, I think you’re afraid, Alex. You know that he’ll let me stay if I ask and you think that hurts your odds for survival.”

For once, Alex had no reply. He flapped his jaw until resigning himself to a shrug.

Dorothy went on, “As soon as I disappear, everyone will be watching for Quatre to make his move. I’m not leaving him in those circumstances. No, I am only leaving when I’m certain he’s ready.”

“I understand,” Alex said, possibly with a fraction of respect which Dorothy noted.

“Why is everyone else trying to corrupt Quatre’s intentions?” she protested quietly, determined more than ever to stay alert.

.:.

“Rescue me later?” Alex requested, quickly walking past Dorothy to Relena’s chambers. Appearing just behind Alex was another guard who Dorothy recognized as an accomplice and sympathizer to their efforts.

“Now,” Dorothy said as much as she asked. The other man nodded and led her out past the unconscious body of another guard. No, dead. Dorothy saw the blood still bubbling up like a fountain from a neck wound. Quatre had honored her request. This was not an escape, the revolution had started with Dorothy in the thick.

“Relena!” Dorothy turned to chase after Alex.

“Stop,” the other man snatched her back. “He’s going to keep her alive. Quatre needs you to open the west gate…”

“Why me?” Dorothy wanted to cooperate, but she didn’t trust Alex either. “Can’t you do it?”

“He said it needs to be a friendly face.”

The guard only stayed with her long enough to be certain Dorothy got free from the castle walls and that she had a weapon. In their hurry, she only had a short dagger, but it gave her something to point at an enemy. The man retreated toward the increasing sounds of alarm and battle. Dorothy focused on making it to the gate.

In the years of her captivity, Dorothy had not been allowed outside. She had not seen the changes to the streets and the new shops created in the places where old familiar stores had stood. In one intersection, Dorothy hesitated and had to close her eyes against the dizziness of overlapping realities, what had been before and what was actually before her.

She chose her direction on instinct alone and a vague recollection based on the height of the sun. To that point, most of the crowd had been more interested in their daily tasks and routine to pay her much attention.

When she saw the village wall, she walked more quickly encouraged by success. Still, how could she easily grant access to enemies of the Peacecrafts when she no longer had a title with which to command?

A moment of past recollection nearly caused Dorothy to laugh as she recalled seeing Tomas Nichol from years past and his feeble attempt to infiltrate the city, saved only by her intervention. Perhaps she would see him again?

“My lady?” A half-familiar voice from the shadows drew her attention.

“It can’t be, you?” Dorothy grinned, feeling foolishly safe at the simple appearance of Quatre’s most faithful friends. “Abdul? Are you alone?”

“Me?” Abdul chuckled. “I’m never alone, just a little obvious. I’m so sorry we weren’t able to help you before…”

“Don’t say another word,” Dorothy insisted. She looked around. “Have I guessed right? You’re all here to help me now?”

“Now or never,” Abdul admitted. “This is it. Our gamble is with Halyna.”

“Is she here?”

“If she isn’t, those who represent her most certainly are on their way,” Abdul confirmed. He offered her a drink, which Dorothy readily took as she listened. “Heero and Hilde have made camp on the other side of the river. They could mobilize and be here—fast. But Halyna didn’t only bring her parents.”

“No, who?”

“We’re not entirely sure,” Abdul shrugged. “But they’ve made quite a lot of noise. I’m surprised the Peacecrafts were so slow to respond. The ports are completely taken over and the villages in the woods aren’t going to fight for Milliardo.”

“Quatre’s fighting in the castle,” Dorothy said, feeling a sudden urgency. “If he’s alone…”

“Ah, well, when I said I wasn’t alone… I should have mentioned the rest of the Maganac went back that way,” Abdul grinned. “So much for following Quatre’s orders to stay with you, but I’m confident in your ability to…”

“Stop talking,” Dorothy said, ready for what came next. “If that fool of a man has friends like you Maganac, he should live long enough for me to kill him instead. Now, how best to welcome in some invaders?”

.:.

From his previous experiences at the gate, Abdul knew how to open the heavy wooden doors, so Dorothy sent him to do so as she drew imaginary cuts along the torso of the captive gatekeeper. She didn’t know how long Abdul would be gone, but from the way the gatekeeper's face blossomed into purple sweat Dorothy knew that her threats had been fearsome enough to buy herself some time. It didn’t hurt that she knew what she was talking about as she described the places and the means by which she might kill a man.

“I’m engaged,” Dorothy said, rather savoring the thought. “He’s a kind man, very kind. When we first met, well, one of the first times we met… I stabbed him. Here.” She demonstrated. Then she leaned in to whisper, “He has a scar.”

“Dorothy!” She heard Abdul shout in warning. At first, she thought he only meant to notify her that the gate was moving. The wooden door had been released and anyone watching would know. Unfortunately, he could also have meant the patrol of three guards, likely reinforcements, who were coming down the street.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” she sighed.

“You still don’t have to,” the gatekeeper replied desperately. “I’m not going to fight back.”

She gave him a long, discerning look and deciding he had the same survival instinct as Alex, she shouted at him, “Run away!”

Abdul watched as the sweaty man fled in the opposite direction. He jogged up to stand by Dorothy’s side, his sword ready. Eventually, the gate keeper met up with the guards who listened quickly before turning toward the gate moving faster as they saw Abdul and Dorothy.

“I guess these three aren’t going to just run away,” Abdul chuckled. Then he pulled a second dagger from its sheath. “If memory serves, you can fight with two…”

“Ah, that’s the perfect length,” Dorothy said, happily. The weights felt familiar in her wrists and she tested the blades with a small bounce. Still, it had been so long since she had last practiced she hoped instinct would control her limbs when it came to a fight.

“If you make a mistake, be sure to have cut someone. One of them,” Abdul teased, sounding somewhat strained.

“You’re going to be too busy to watch my mistakes,” Dorothy replied, taking a deep breath. She tracked the guard closest to her. She could see his eyes and she took a step, her arms did move with the memory.

“I’m not going to die. How about you?” she challenged. Another step, but the man didn’t approach. She moved closer. Was he going to make her take the initiative? Trying to kill her nerve? She saw him swallow hard, then heard the clatter of a weapon. Then her man dropped his sword as well.

Suddenly shoulder to her shoulder, Abdul howled with laughter. “They give up so easily, my lady.”

“Why…?” Dorothy started to ask. The guards had the advantage. Then she heard a throat being cleared behind her. She pivoted to see who had come through the gate. “Trowa Barton!”

He gave her a somewhat bashful smile, one that meant he was happy to see her. And she was happy to see him, and the not small gathering of well-armed soldiers behind him.

Dorothy might have embraced him, impulsively, except she still held two blades and they were only in the beginning of a battle with a reluctant army and an unqualified, desperate despot.

“Where’s the other one?” she asked, suddenly curious and looking among the unfamiliar faces.

“Who?” Trowa asked, between orders to his men. He didn’t waste time sending his second-in-command through to the castle. He lingered, ready to command the following men loyal to Halyna.

“ _Who_ , he says. Nichol!” she retorted. Abdul stayed by her side, watchful for anyone who wished them harm. “Is he in the next wave or something?”

“Nichol,” Trowa repeated, somewhat at a loss and rubbing the back of his neck. “Nichol is with Sébastien.”

“With whom?” Dorothy had a suspicion, but enjoyed the moment. Possibly the only thing better would be if Quatre could have witnessed to this.

“He likes Nichol better,” Trowa muttered. “For some reason.”

“Who?” she persisted. “Who is so important you would leave a good soldier out of an important fight?”

“Dorothy,” he said in defeat. “He’s with my son.”

.:.

While Hilde took her daughter through the castle and made preparations for the official proclamations of Halyna’s rulership, Dorothy returned to the dungeons. The damp, dark shadows no longer oppressed her as they had in the past. This time she took those same steps with Quatre Winner walking freely by her side.

“Why can’t we leave this to Heero,” Dorothy asked. “If anyone will deal appropriately with that man…”

“Dorothy,” Quatre interrupted. “My heart, keep it just a little longer for me. I have something I must do. A satisfaction that I promised to every person who came to my side over the past year.”

“A promise?” She wondered what it had been. She knew Quatre was a marvelous leader who could get almost anyone to listen to him and unquestioningly obey. How long had he had the devotion of the entire Maganac people? Still, to have done what he promised… to poison Milliardo Peacecraft’s own men against him?

“I would rather you stay here.” Quatre stopped walking and held out his hand. “Let me do this and I will return to you.”

“No,” Dorothy replied. “If I’m keeping your heart or not, I will watch this.” As she saw the conflict tightening around his eyes, she added, “But I will give your heart back, without the memory. Let me have the memory.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone.” He shook his head, but each movement seemed to give him relief.

“Never, never again,” she promised.

Before going into the cell, an unfamiliar one that had never been used for a Gundam knight, Quatre accepted a gift from Heero Yuy. Dorothy had to look at it twice before she knew it for what it was: an iron mask, made to prevent sight, still unclosed and waiting to be locked.

.:.

“Trowa, make your beastly child be quiet,” Dorothy hollered across the garden to the small gathering of wedding guests. She still held Quatre’s hands in her own and she wasn’t letting go. Quatre chuckled and seemed to want to scratch his nose. She gripped his fingers tighter.

Turning to her left, she pleaded, “Can’t you do something?”

Standing closer to the willow tree, Nichol flinched back from her forcefulness. “I could but you were the one who asked me to read the vows…which do you want?”

“I’m the bride. I want... both,” Dorothy decided. “Trowa Barton, get your kid over here.”

Nichol exchanged the worn book of wedding vows for the red-faced infant, who calmed almost immediately at the sound of Nichol’s voice. Trowa sighed, heavily.

All things considered, the day could not have been more beautiful even for the unlikely location near the castle prison. While waiting, Dorothy watched a small yellow butterfly coast along the grass blades near the edges of her white skirt.

“Hold the book, up a little, there,” Nichol prompted Trowa, trying to read and hold little Sébastien at the same time. He had confessed a profound nervousness at his ability to read, so Dorothy had made him practice to the point of memorization. All the same he had insisted on keeping the text with him.

No one wanted to ruin the ceremony, but having the hastily recognized, temporary priest holding an unruly infant wasn’t causing either the bride or groom any distress. Even Halyna’s inability to keep from quietly laughing was allowed without comment as long as the baby remained silent.

Quatre repeated his vows, but what Dorothy heard were the words he had given to her the night before, “I want to marry you, to be with you, and start a family with you.”

Families. Children. They were the creatures who created these wars. They became kings and queens and traitors to rise and fall based on better marriages and lines of heritage. Dorothy had only thought of children as a nuisance to protect and instruct in their roles. Her childhood had been like that. To a point, Quatre’s youth had been the same.

But what he had been promising, what Quatre had been dreaming for their marriage was different. He loved Dorothy and he wanted to love her children.

And she knew that promise of love was sincere because of everything that they had been through together. She smiled at him while a girl from the village sang Dorothy’s favorite song.

Perhaps, behind every other reason for the conquest, Heero and Hilde moved and acted first because they loved Halyna. And as Nichol gently rolled his shoulders to soothe Sébastien, Dorothy knew that little boy was already very much loved.

So when Quatre was the one asking for her to join his family and to protect his heart, she replied, whole-heartedly, “I do.”


End file.
